Remembering
hanging, but stammering :
This is the language of love.
This is the language of love.
A pleasure,
A treasure.
A treasure.
A gift without measure.
This is the beauty of love,
Mystical
Lyrical
Always a miracle
This is the wonder of love.
This is the wonder of love.
More than a year has passed
Since you and I
Parted in grief and tears
Today at last
A letter came
One tiny, narrow sheet.
Tonight I’ve lit my lamp
A hundred times
To read its words of love.
This is love; two souls
that freely meet, and
have no need
of proving anything.
note - Written by my either one of my parents (probably mum) over 35 years ago, first two words are blurred, I took a guess and go ahead with it. This was taken straight from her old diary, dates back to the year of 1975.
1 comments:
uuuu~~~~baca diari mak~patutlah anak hebat~mak pun hebat juga~~
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